BGTW AWARDS

Pól Ó Conghaile was named Travel Writer of the Year, based on three features he wrote for the magazine

Finding manta rays isn’t easy, of course. Every day, Guy and his team spend hours weighing up sighting reports, crunching climatic data and scouting feeding and cleaning stations before our ribs even hit the water. When we strike out from the Explorer towards a lagoon or reef, little is le‡ to chance. But we’re still dealing with wild animals. Not to mention Mother Nature.

Time and again, however, they crack it. On a dive oŠ Ari Atoll, we spot shadows ghosting about. Piling into the water, we swim with several mantas — one doubling back so close I can see the look in its eyes, the scars in its black, rubbery skin. I follow it. Guy is one step ahead, and a‡er several minutes we end up hovering over a coral outcrop, about 40‡ below the surface. “It’s a cleaning station,” he says, spitting water from his snorkel.

Over the next half-hour or so we float on the surface, waiting for mantas to circle around and return to the site, where they pause for a few seconds to allow little cleaner wrasse to pick dirt and parasites from their mouths and gills. When they do, we breathe deeply, free-diving for as long as our lungs will allow. It’s silent. I hang there, staring at a manta as it glides by. It’s the longest freedive I’ve ever done — and an

absolutely magical experience.

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